Fortune
by Jelach
Summary: Hearing her say the words "you're going to be a father," softly, so as not to disturb the stillness of the incandescent morning, was one of his most dearly treasured memories / Fitzwilliam Darcy experiences the inflation of his fortune.


A/N

Just wanted to tidy up a few errors and let you know that I have now written a prologue of sorts entitled "Competition." May do a short series in this universe so let me know if that's something you'd be interested in! Thanks for reading.

Fortune

Raindrops cascaded in scintillating rivulets down the cold glass of the window pane. Elizabeth sighed at the thought of another day deprived of the freedom of the balcony due to inclement weather. She was in the final month of her confinement and not enjoying the enforced imprisonment in the chambers she shared with her beloved husband.

The dull tapping sound echoed in the warm room that Fitzwilliam had vacated not an hour earlier to continue with some business. She moved from her place by the window to his side of their four poster bed.

Fingering the soft fabric of his pillow, she sighed again. She missed his company. In their first year and a half of marriage, aside from a few inevitable arguments, they had spent a rather blissful eighteen months with little separation. Her husband always tried to include her in business trips, and she had been supportive in his every venture. Their fortune had only grown with her support and amiability, for she had a manner of enticing buyers which he was all too familiar with. Once she used her considerable charm on them, they were unlikely to resist an offer that her husband would make them. Truthfully, if they saw one iota of the charm she deployed on her husband, they would hand over their entire wealth immediately. Fitzwilliam Darcy had indeed chosen the jewel of Hertfordshire, moreover in all of England. He was reminded of his good fortune every day.

However, they had not maintained such cheerful relations in the past two months, for Elizabeth was very stubborn in all matters - in particular in matters regarding her freedom and independence. A very headstrong woman, she did not relish the idea of enforced bed-rest and separation from both her husband and society. The latter, her husband was unmoved upon - wanting to ensure the safety of both his beloved wife and unborn child. In regards to the former, Mr Darcy had altered his stance after an attempted night in the cold master's bed. Unaccustomed to the emptiness of his bed without her warmth, he crawled back into her chambers after two hours of tossing and turning. She was irresistible - and finding it as impossible to sleep as he was. It was decided in a look and an embrace that in the interests of all involved, the Darcys would remain together for the duration of her pregnancy.

Elizabeth took what little comfort she could from their nights together, but found herself frightfully bored upon his absence throughout the day. He was very obliging with regards to her activities within her chambers, recognising that inactivity was not in her nature and that she was likely finding it even harder than he was to not be constantly on the go together. He missed her on his business trips, his calls to their tenants and his rides across Pemberley's beautiful grounds. Most of all, he missed her easy laughter upon his subconscious actions and the flash in her fine eyes when he did something pleasing to her in one way or another. It was almost sufficient to give him cause to revoke his commands that she found so distasteful. Almost.

He found himself in the library after another heated confrontation with his lovely, frustrated wife. Scouring the shelves for the novel she sought to alleviate her boredom, he reconsidered for the thousandth time his stance on the matter. He considered the upbringing that had taught him that expectant mothers ought to rest in their chambers for the duration of their confinement. His own mother, and no doubt Lady Catherine, had obeyed their husbands in this matter. He knew that his amiable friend Charles had not forced Mrs Bingley to remain in her bed throughout her pregnancy, but balked the terror that gripped him at the thought of something happening to his beloved wife and the child he was so excited to know and love. He loved her and understood how hard it was for her to forsake her daily walks about the grounds and conversations with the staff for her safety. He also understood that she was trying to uphold her duty as a Darcy, but that she was struggling.

Considering the early months of her pregnancy, he remembered keenly the joy he had felt upon discovering that she was with child. He had only been more joyous when she had told him for the first time that she loved him, not long after his second successful proposal and their subsequent interviews with Mr Bennet. Hearing her say the words "you're going to be a father," softly, so as not to disturb the stillness of the incandescent morning, was one of his most dearly treasured memories.

Initially he had been the proud expectant father, immediately writing to all of his acquaintance of the happy news and taking his Elizabeth everywhere he went to show off her brilliance - for he felt that the unborn child only increased her radiance. His friends had noticed the pride upon Mr Darcy's countenance, though noticed that it was more careful than the open hauteur of years past. In fact, many remarked that it well suited him, this familial pride. It was clear to all that he was absolutely besotted, more so than they thought the taciturn Mr Darcy could be. There was no reserve when he introduced his beloved Mrs Darcy, nor when he demonstrated his affection and protectiveness.

However, in the past month - as Elizabeth had grown - he had found it increasingly difficult to allow her to continue all of her activities. He was nervous about becoming a father, but his worry that something could happen to prevent his fatherhood was almost all-encompassing, and far worse than his anxiousness to bring their child into the world.

Unsure what his course of action should be, Fitzwilliam turned to the most constant source of feminine advice present in his home - Mrs Reynolds.

...

Upon his plea for a solution to the mounting problem of what to do with his wife, she imparted experience of her own pregnancy and that of some of the great women her family had served.

"Although you may not want to hear it, sir," she began, "many a great lady, and indeed many serving women such as myself, do not undergo bed-rest until the moment of their lying in."

His face burst with colour and he nodded, enraptured by the possibility that his Elizabeth may not need to be apart from him much longer. Gesturing for her to continue, his posture evoked the eagerness he was feeling at this proclamation.

"It is quite healthy for both mother and child to experience fresh air and exercise throughout the pregnancy. I have never understood the benefit of confinement during what should be such a joyous time for both of the parents. Indeed, whilst I was serving your mother and father, I fell pregnant twice and continued working until the last possible opportunity. With such a wife as our Mistress, I would suggest that her wonderful _lively_ personality would not make her a good candidate for confinement at all. In fact she has revealed to myself and her lady's maid that, whilst she understands your actions, she has been most miserable." This was punctuated with a chuckle from the Housekeeper and a groan from the Master.

"Thank you for your council, Mrs Reynolds. I value your opinion greatly. I have but one question. I wonder it took you so long to impart upon me this knowledge." The undiluted hope and joy in his tone left no room for disapprobation in his question.

"Sir, I did not want to overstep my position. I will always defer to your wishes, though you should know, we allowed Mrs Darcy access to her balcony as a substitute to her regular walks about your estate."

He smiled at her honesty and murmured under his breath, "So that's how she got out there!" His exasperation with his wife and her conspiracy with their servants was overcome by the peaceful joy he felt at once more being able to have her on his arm constantly.

She seemed to hesitate, then decided to continue. "I might add, with fear that you may think it improper, sir, that Mrs Darcy may want you there during her lying-in. Furthermore, I see no disadvantage in allowing such breaches of propriety. It will give her great comfort to know you support her wholeheartedly, sir."

Darcy almost ran straight to her chambers to grovel and accompany her to any part of the gardens she chose. That his beloved Elizabeth had been miserable on his account caused him the utmost pain, which he wished to remedy immediately.

...

Elizabeth had enjoyed the remainder of her pregnancy, after her husband had lifted his commands for confinement. They had enjoyed many a happy walk together when his schedule permitted, and her heart fluttered pleasantly whenever Fitzwilliam addressed her ever growing stomach. He was usually rewarded for his efforts by a round of feather light kicks from the baby. His eyes lit up every time at the thought of their child recognising him. She was at the same time entranced and entrancing.

All too soon, Jane and Bingley arrived with their five month old daughter, Emma; in order that Jane might help her sister alongside the midwife when the baby came. A very pleasant dinner was held upon the evening of their arrival to honour a continued friendship and the Darcys' beloved niece. They were followed by the Gardiners, who again received a warm welcome to Pemberley. Elizabeth had requested the presence of her aunt and sister for the birth, along with the absence of her mother. Her husband was all too willing to acquiesce her second request as he felt that _his_ nerves were more than sufficient for the both of them.

Georgiana returned with Colonel Fitzwilliam from Town a day after the Bingleys and Gardiners had arrived, a bundle of excitement at the prospect of becoming an Aunt for the first time. Her childlike jubilance was a breath of fresh air in the stifling atmosphere of Fitzwilliam's heightened anxiousness in regards to his wife and their upcoming ordeal. Mrs Reynolds had briefed him on what occurred within the walls of the laying-in room after he and his wife had professed their shared desire to remain together throughout the birth of their child. Although shocked upon hearing the pain his wife was to endure, and the horrors of childbirth, he maintained his promises to support his Elizabeth.

As Georgiana was unfamiliar with the mechanics of childbirth, she was to remain away from Elizabeth when the child arrived and to entertain little Emma alongside Charles. She was instantly smitten with the placid baby girl - a niece of sorts. She couldn't wait until Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam's child could accompany her to the gardens, drawing and playing and making up for the childhood she had missed after the death of her father.

She had never been told of how her mother died, and therefore did not understand her brother's anguish at the thought of Elizabeth - _his dearest Elizabeth_ \- suffering through the ordeal that had caused his mother's untimely demise. Aware that the fear would stifle him if given stock, he took refuge in his friends and his sister and tried to forget how common it was for mother or child to never leave the laying in room. He didn't allow the visions of a still, white Lizzy to invade his consciousness; instead envisaging the happy presentation of his son or daughter to their expectant Aunt Georgiana.

The thought displayed itself in the upturned corners of his lips as he held his beloved Elizabeth in the safe circle of his arms, both drifting into unconsciousness two weeks after Georgiana's arrival. Pemberley's staff and guests were on high alert, ready for a call at any time of day or night to support the expectant parents. The excitement in the people and even the buildings of the great house was tangible, seeping into the weary bones of a heavily pregnant Elizabeth and a nervous Fitzwilliam. It was time.

...

And so Fitzwilliam found himself, at two o'clock in the morning, carrying his rounded wife to the lying-in room. A servant was on her way to fetch the midwife, who Darcy had called in from York three days' earlier. He would accept only the best for his family. Elizabeth was panting, a sheen of sweat building up on her white forehead. She said very little as she clasped his hand staunchly, her knuckles white. He flinched at every indication of distress in his wife's lovely face and haunting cries.

"That's it, my love," he murmured as he placed her on the bed. "Keep going, I am here. I will keep you safe." He thought that if he said it enough, it may become true.

Her pained response died on her lips as a new spasm came from her swollen stomach. Gritting her teeth, she managed a reply in jest. "This is _your_ fault, dearest."

His relief was palpable. As long as she was still joking with him, he had fulfilled his promise to keep her from harm. She was still clinging to his hand for support and he wondered if he would still be able to use it after this ordeal. It was beginning to numb under her constant pressure.

His musing was interrupted by the arrival of the midwife and Elizabeth's birthing companions. Her sister smiled sympathetically at Mr Darcy upon entering the room. She could feel his worry and it brought to the forefront memories of her own childbirth experience. Her dear Charles had been jittery until she was safely delivered.

"Thank you, Mr Darcy," she expressed. "We can look after my sister from here."

"Maybe you could join your cousin and my husband in the library?" Mrs Gardiner added.

Mr Darcy looked at his darling wife, who smiled gently at him and gave her encouragement. He kissed her softly on her forehead and, with a squeeze of her hand, turned and left the room.

He collapsed on his way to the library, capitulating to his worries.

...

Now that he could no longer see her beautiful face, he had not the slightest idea of how she was doing. Was she still fighting for their child? Had she succumbed to the overwhelming heat and pressure of the lying-in room? Had that soft kiss on her forehead been their last?

"I shall conquer this," he muttered, "I shall." Hauling himself from the fine green rug on the floor, he went in search of his chipper cousin. Richard would have the conversation - or _spirits_ \- to relieve him of some tension. Though he would not be easy until Elizabeth was safely through this ordeal, he could hardly remain on the floor all morning.

The sky was still dark through the generous library windows when Mr Darcy joined his cousin and dear friend Mr Gardiner in the library after taking a few silent seconds to compose himself outside the door. His guests had naturally awoken to the commotion that had begun around two o'clock.

"Mr Darcy," Mr Gardiner exclaimed, "How is my niece?" Darcy took comfort in the fact that he was not alone in his worry – though he was certain that his nervousness was more acute than her uncle's.

"She is progressing as can be expected," he replied. "I, for one, hadn't expected the cries of pain." His voice gave out upon the last syllable. He moved woodenly to a chair by one of the windows and gazed unseeingly at his dishevelled reflection in the smooth glass panels.

"Come on Fitz," his cousin replied jovially. "It can't be as bad as all that. Her own mother managed five births, and still remained a force of nature."

His words had the desired effect, as Darcy let out a strangled chuckle. "Heaven help me if Elizabeth follows in her mother's footsteps!" Then, realising what he had said, he added, "Forgive me for being so uncharitable. I could not support Lizzy's nerves as well as my own at this instant."

Mr Gardiner chuckled at his rescue. His sister _was_ a bit of a nightmare, but it would not do to insult her in her absence. Seeing Darcy's mask of worry reappear, he offered some advice of his own.

"I have heard that country girls are made of strong matter," he said conversationally, "and Lizzy is a very strong woman indeed." Darcy agreed very much with Mr Gardiner and thanked him for relieving his nerves a little.

"What say you both to a game of billiards? I shall find Charles and meet you in the billiard room in five minutes." Colonel Fitzwilliam asked. The men agreed that this was a sensible idea to distract Mr Darcy from the events occurring upstairs.

...

The game of billiards passed quickly and uneventfully and, sitting once more in the library with a glass of port an hour later, Mr Darcy was trying unsuccessfully to read some Shakespeare. He was still thus occupied two hours hence, when the sun broke the horizon. Startled at the beauty of his house and grounds, he arose from his prolonged seating position and went in search of his valet to dress and shave. Today would occur a momentous occasion and he wanted to look his best. That he needed a better distraction than the same page of Hamlet that he had been perusing for the past two hours he would not attempt to deny.

He was soon clean shaven and presentable and on his way back to the library when a groan reached him from the other side of an oak door. Knowing that he would be refused entry to his wife's chambers, he rushed past. In his keyed-up impatience to be past the closed door of the laying-in room, he nearly ran into Georgiana. They both winced at the muffled cry that pierced the hardwood.

"Fitz," she said softly, "I was wondering how you were doing. Dear Emma is awake, would you like to accompany me back to her chambers?"

"I would love to, Georgie," he replied. She could hear the gratitude in his voice and they passed a few pleasant hours in the company of his dearest friend and little Emma Bingley.

This tranquil escape was ended by a hasty knock at the door.

...

"Sir, your presence is needed with your wife and child immediately," Mrs Reynolds said softly, with a grin on her weathered face. His heart leapt! They were both safe.

He hurriedly made his way to his wife, nearly skipping with joy, until he was finally upon the threshold of her room. Entering quietly so as to not disturb his lovely wife, he sought her out quickly. The ladies discretely left the room to give the new parents some privacy.

"I love you," he said softly, gazing upon the face of his lovely wife for the first time in hours. Her fine eyes told him that the feeling was mutual. She glowed with maternal pride and, despite her tiredness, she was a sight to behold. She sensed that he was impatient to see their child so, with an adoring glance into her arms, she introduced them.

"Fitzwilliam, my love, come and meet your son." He thought he would burst with the sudden rush of emotion. He had a baby. He was a father. He had a _son_. The sleeping infant lay swaddled within his grasp and he was overwhelmed with the need to hold him, to ensure that he was not dreaming. After kissing his dearest Elizabeth, he made his sentiments known. She happily placed the babe in his arms and a look of tenderness such as he had never seen graced her beautiful face.

"He is so small," he muttered, astonished.

She joked with him once more. "Not _that_ small, dearest! He was still quite painful."

"I am so proud of you," he replied fondly. He allowed his worry to finally dissipate into the warmness of the room before placing a loving kiss on the impossibly tiny forehead of his baby boy. His son grasped his little finger with his whole hand and Darcy's mien lightened anew. Elizabeth mused at how well the look of paternal softness became him.

"Fitzwilliam, you ought to introduce him to our family," she said gently. "If you don't mind, I think I shall remain abed and allow the task to fall to your capable, and slightly less tired, hands." He chuckled happily and, with one last kiss from his darling wife, crossed the floor.

...

Mr Darcy, Master of Pemberley, Husband of Elizabeth, and now overprotective and overjoyed father carried his son from the lying-in room in order to introduce him to the world.

"Loved ones," he began, "I would like to introduce you to my son, Bennet George Darcy."

There were smiles and congratulations all around before Darcy placed his slumbering son into the eager arms of the young lady he was partly named after. Georgiana's face shone with happiness at the tiny babe nestled into her embrace. Her brother smiled, showing his dimples.

"Thank you, Fitzwilliam," she breathed. "I am honoured, and he is the most beautiful babe I ever beheld. Mother and Father would be so proud."

Her comment had been said lightly, as an aside, but its impact was instant and great. He placed his long arms around his sister and son and smiled towards the ceiling. Beholding two-thirds of his most beloved family, he counted his blessings and basked in this joyous occasion, the inflation of his fortune.


End file.
